Chapter Thirty-Six: The New Trainer

It’s no wonder that Hao, who couldn’t even tell if he was a dog or not, was so dissatisfied with Bajir. The moment he stepped out, there were six unevolved Eevees at level fifty, each seemingly very well-trained. In game terms, this was the mark of a player using cheats! Even in the real world… Well, if you wanted to be precise about it, they were indeed “personally” raised by the trainer, as shown by their capture records. And if they could really grow to levels sixty or seventy in half a year, it was proof of true ability. Still, Hao couldn’t accept it. And he wasn’t alone—many others would feel the same!

After all, most newcomers started from scratch, or with a single starter Pokémon at level ten or twenty, then picked up one of the regional starters—this was the best an ordinary person could hope for. A Pokémon that “grew up together” with you was usually just one, even in the case of Yuanzi, since without the aid of a Pokédex, you could only carry one Poké Ball. So when a trainer set out with several level-fifty Eevees and was still counted as a “newbie,” it was understandably hard to swallow.

Moreover, the intent and method behind such development were all too clear. Growing up with multiple Eevees, holding off their evolution until after level fifty—allowing for faster level growth, and then, upon evolving, a sudden leap in power. “He even deliberately didn’t let them evolve until they were fifty, and waited until he himself turned eighteen and registered as a trainer… Was it because he worried that once they evolved, they’d be too powerful for him to capture?” Hao continued to speculate maliciously.

“That’s not quite fair; I think Bajir and his Eevees have a great bond…” Ash, surprisingly, spoke up in defense of the opponent who had just trounced him so thoroughly.

In terms of leveling, even a mediocre trainer could manage level fifteen to twenty, since most wild Pokémon were within that range. With insufficient skill, grinding could get you to around level fifty—the practical cap for wild Pokémon, unless it was a rare boss or something special; only then would you see wild Pokémon above level fifty. Of course, legendary Pokémon were a whole different category. From the few cases where trainers had legendaries, those were always level one hundred, with base stats above twelve hundred.

As for rookie tournaments, anyone whose team could all reach level fifty had a real shot at winning—after all, they’d only been trainers for about a year, at least in theory. Bajir’s method—holding his team at level fifty, then capturing and evolving them, riding the surge in power to gain even more levels—was undoubtedly a bit of a shortcut. Plenty of people felt the same way as Hao.

“What? Level fifty Eevee? There’s no way that’s just ‘growing up together’!” Misty immediately judged, her tone indignant.

“Exactly, that’s what I was saying!” Hao said, shooting a look at Ash, who could only smile awkwardly. But Misty was different from Hao; her tone wasn’t born of malice, but from real evidence.

Generally speaking, before becoming a trainer, even if you grew up with a Pokémon, it didn’t count as “training”—like those bug catchers, for example. As the daughter of a Gym Leader, Misty could confidently say someone in his family must have “power-leveled” for him! She shared her suspicion aloud.

“But if his family trained them, wouldn’t they not obey his commands… Or rather, wouldn’t they be ineligible for the rookie tournament?” Brock interjected, countering from a purely rules-based perspective.

Usually, “power-leveling” didn’t work. If you hadn’t personally caught your Pokémon, training them was inefficient, and they were likely to abandon you. And if you caught and trained them, then transferred them to someone else… Well, not only might their low bond cause them to disobey or even leave, the rules also stated that transferred Pokémon didn’t count as native captures.

“No, that’s just the general case. If his whole family are Eevee trainers, it’s different! His Eevees are part of one big family with his relatives’ Eevees. With some light training, you don’t have to worry about the Pokémon rebelling; in fact, even without much training, a little Eevee growing up among all those high-level adults would naturally develop much faster.” As a Gym Leader’s daughter, Misty understood these tricks all too well.

Ash, hearing this, suddenly realized something. Until now, he’d thought he was simply much worse than Bajir.

“But Bajir and his Eevees really do have a strong bond, I’m sure he’s an excellent trainer himself!” Ash insisted.

“You…” Hao huffed, getting angry on Ash’s behalf.

“In the end, from a rules perspective, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Amu said, echoing Brock’s stance. He didn’t bother to defend Bajir’s clever shortcut, nor did he seem particularly resentful—he was simply analyzing the established facts.

It was certain that Bajir had officially caught all his Eevees after beginning his journey this year, not through transfers. As for what they might evolve into, that hardly counted as cheating—the only requirement was to have at least five native Pokémon from the region, not ones specifically registered in the local Pokédex.

And if he really could raise them to sixty or seventy before the competition, it would prove he was anything but mediocre. Still… it was definitely taking advantage! Eevee’s base stats after evolution were 525—imagine a whole team at level sixty or seventy! Amu wasn’t confident—he figured if he could get his team to level fifty by then, he’d be doing well. After all, Bajir’s Eevees had been growing for more than a decade, while Amu would have only been a trainer for six months by the tournament.

Hao’s expression seemed to say, “Why aren’t you all denouncing this unfairness with me?” Ash, noticing this, quickly cut in, “Hey, Amu, want to battle again? I’ve caught a Bulbasaur too!”

It seemed that after switching from Misty to Hao as his teammate, Ash’s emotional intelligence had improved—perhaps that was the difference between being a younger brother and being an older one. What a delightful change indeed.

“Sure,” Amu agreed easily, without much hesitation.

Ash produced a special tournament ball, then shot Amu a proud look—as if to say, “I know about tournament balls too.” The others quickly cleared the field for them.

Amu, seeing this, also took out one of the personal tournament balls he’d bought earlier. It looked about the same size as a standard Poké Ball when expanded, but the internal structure was entirely different. Pressing the button, the ball opened to reveal a panel with three slots above and four below—seven indentations in total, each the right size to hold a shrunken Poké Ball. The three upper slots were for single battles, the four lower ones for doubles.

“Let’s just do a single battle!” Ash said, not intending this to be an official match.

“I don’t have six Pokémon yet either,” Amu replied, beginning to load his Poké Balls into place.

“Pikachu.” Ash glanced at his partner, who, though a bit reluctant, entered the Poké Ball with fighting spirit. In this world, even Pikachu couldn’t openly “cheat”—if it leapt directly from the sidelines, it would basically get a free skill prep, which no legitimate rules would allow.